


Rain

by TheSigyn



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 05:02:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5151284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSigyn/pseuds/TheSigyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike had been pretty down lately. Sometimes Buffy wished she could just shake him. Where the hell was Spike under all this? She knew he had a soul, now, but – god. Did a soul do nothing but make vampires melancholy brood machines? Set after The Killer In Me, before Get It Done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain

  
    A storm was coming.

    They’d known a metaphorical storm was headed their way for months, now. The First Evil was bearing down, the forces of darkness were joining together, and Sunnydale was under a dark cloud of impending doom.

    But none of that was troublesome at the moment. Right now Buffy had a bunch of teenage girls to train, and a limited amount of time to train them. And even less time than she’d thought, tonight.

    The wind was picking up. It came in from over the sea, and even Buffy caught the slight tang of salt in the breeze. She caught Spike lifting his nose to it. The clouds were thickening to the west, the air heavy with coming rain. “I told you it was gonna rain tonight,” Rhona said to the others.

    “Oh, god,” Violet said. “We’re going to be hunting vampires _in the rain?_ ”

    “Weather training is good for us,” Kennedy said. “I’m sure Buffy patrolled in the rain all the time, right Buffy?”

    Buffy was about to say something virtuous about the forces of darkness going out in all weathers, but Spike was looking at her expectantly. He knew right well that her favorite pastime for rainy nights was to curl up in front of the television with a cup of hot cocoa and a bowl of popcorn. The closest she’d ever come to patrolling on actual rainy nights was to flat out lie to her sister and spend the time in his crypt, instead.

    Buffy looked up. “All right,” she said to the rest of the potential slayers. She looked around the empty cemetery, then back at the girls. “Training patrol aborted. Let’s head back to the house.”

    Spike stuck close to her on their way back. “Do you think I’m being too lenient?” she asked him. “Kennedy was right. A little rain won’t hurt them.”

    Spike shrugged. “You’re the den mother, pet.”

    “Den is right,” she said. “Just half a dozen teenage girls and the house is starting to reek like the bear cage at the zoo.”

    Spike shrugged again.

    “Come on, you’ve noticed it.”

    “It all smells like lunch,” Spike said quietly.

    Buffy was about to chastize him for joking, when she realized he wasn’t. He was looking at the concrete. He’d been pretty down lately. He’d still been locking himself up in chains every time Buffy went to work, and he wouldn’t leave the house without her. Sometimes Buffy wished she could just _shake_ him. Where the hell was Spike under all this? In quiet black denim, the guy walked softly and didn’t even carry a stick. Where was her leather-clad punk rocker Billy Idol inspiration? Where was the Big Bad she’d been unable to resist? Insane was one thing, but this melancholy was driving her batty.

    She knew he had a soul, now, but – god. Did a soul do nothing but make vampires melancholy brood machines? She kept being tempted to ask him that, but she could never quite dare. He’d done this for her. It tore her up inside that he’d gone through this for her. And now it seemed as if neither one of them felt sure they even wanted to be together, and what if they decided they weren’t going to? He’d drained himself of all the violence and vitality and, and... and the Spike! And for what? There had to be something more than sadness. Spike had to be in there, didn’t he?

    In a sudden gust of rain-charged wind, Kennedy’s head snapped up. “Oh, damn! Vi, did you leave my crossbow in the yard?”

    “Um... maybe?” Violet looked sheepish.

    Buffy rolled her eyes.

    “Rain’s coming quick,” Spike told them.

    “I gotta run!” Kennedy snapped, with a bit of a rueful look at Violet.

    “Right with you!” Rhona said.

    “Good idea,” Buffy said. “Try and race! Hone your speed.” The girls took off down the street at a pelt, and Buffy and Spike joined them.

    The wind grew stronger, with a slight electric tang to the air. Spike kept pace with Buffy and the girls, his shoulders hunched as if hunting. They made it to the house in record time, the wind flowing strong from the distant ocean. The girls began gathering up weaponry and discarded shirts they’d left around the yard, laughing as the first stray droplets began to sprinkle down.

    Spike looked up.

    As the rain picked up, Buffy quickly ushered the potentials inside. “Did we get everything?” she asked. “If you leave a crossbow out in the rain, you get warpage, slack strings... just... dire things occur.”

    “Yeah. Like I kill you,” Kennedy said to Violet, teasing.

    “I didn’t know it was gonna rain. It’s California. It never rains in southern California.”

    “It’s a song, Vi. Not a promise. And this isn’t–”

    Buffy rolled her eyes. Did they _ever_ shut up? The girls chattered as they filed into the house, and Buffy turned back to Spike, still behind them all. “Spike?”

    He wasn’t looking at her. His dark form was still out on the sidewalk, staring up at the sky. A flash of lightning sparked to the west, and Spike’s head turned to the glowing cloud. Buffy opened her mouth again to call him in.

    And stopped. Something seemed different about Spike. Something more than the darkness turned inward that she’d seen in him once the madness broke. He was focused outward, caught by the scent on the wind, and as the rain broke in a sudden cloudburst, she heard something she hadn’t heard since before the last time they’d made love.

    Spike chuckled.

    Then as she watched, he raised his hands, holding them up to the falling drops. Even though she could only see a corner of his face, she caught a glimpse of something she hadn’t seen since he got back.

    Spike was smiling. Smiling broadly, joyously, not the self-effacing or annoyed smirks he’d been sparsely bestowing.  He raised his hands higher, arching them above his head, catching the rain and the wind on his open palms, and suddenly he laughed like a child. It was tentative, shy, as if he’d forgotten how. He couldn’t take his eyes off the glowering clouds. His lifted hands closed into fists and he shook his head like a wet dog. A moment later he lowered his hands, rubbing the fresh rain into his face, and over his hair.

    Suddenly he turned to her, his face light and fresh and clear, and he cried out joyfully, the smile still beaming on his face. “Buffy!”

    Buffy stood silent on the porch, alone, staring at him. He was like a young child, calling to his mother about the wonder of a sprinkler. When he actually saw her he seemed to get self-conscious. The smile faded from his face, and he looked bewildered. “It’s... it’s raining.”

    Buffy said nothing.

    Spike looked down, embarrassed. He couldn’t seem to find anything else to say. Buffy could almost hear what he wasn’t saying, though. _It’s beautiful. It’s wild. Can’t you feel it coming in with the wind? The power of it._   He said none of that, though. He scuffed his boot awkwardly on the damp concrete, and then shrugged. He chuckled to himself, and turned away. “I’m gonna patrol,” he said softly. He waved behind him as headed back in the direction of the graveyard, through the rain. That old I’m-assuming-you’re-watching wave.

    Buffy watched him walk away, a lightness in his step she hadn’t seen since... since he was his old self. He lifted his face back to the rain, enjoying it, but without the carefree abandonment of a moment ago. And Buffy realized... he was walking off by himself. He’d forgotten. The terror of the First catching him again, his potential to become a cold-blooded killer. Chains, or tied to Buffy like a puppy, that had been his rule. _His_ rule, not hers. She hadn’t been worried about the trigger for weeks.

    The rain had caught something in him. It had connected to something, it had...

    It had touched his soul. She knew it as clearly as if a god had come down and told her.

    For a long moment she watched him walk off alone. _There_ was Spike. She’d only seen a moment of it, but he _was_ there. She’d been missing him so badly. She was glad he’d taken his freedom. And yet...

    She’d been there for his soul’s darkness. Why shouldn’t she be there to share his joy?

    She jumped inside and grabbed a rain coat from the hook in the hall. A moment later she ran out into the wet night and caught Spike up. “Mind if I come with?” she asked.

    Spike glanced at her with a genuine smile on his face. “Please,” he said. He looked back up at the sky as another flash of lightning highlighted a cloud. “Gorgeous, innit?”

    “There’s a power in it,” she said. “And without the rain, everything would die.”

    He said nothing, but as they passed under a tree, his hand reached up and shook the leaves. Extra heavy drops sprinkled them both, and Buffy squeaked as one slipped down the collar of her coat. Spike grinned.

    “Any vampires who dig out in this will be absolute mud monsters,” Buffy pointed out.

    “Hey. Better than being a stick in the mud.”

    Buffy glared at him, humorously. “Stupid puns are my department. Besides, they’ll be _getting_ a stick in the mud.”

    “Stake in the mud,” Spike said. He sounded remarkably light, for his soulful self. His melancholy washed away by the rain. Maybe he was still Spike. Even without his leather coat and his joy in bloodshed, maybe once he got used to it, he’d still be him even with the soul. Buffy sure hoped so. She’d been missing him. “You’ll ruin your pretty outfit, love,” Spike added.

    “But I could get a great free facial mask,” she said.

    Spike looked at her appreciatively. “You don’t need it.”

    Buffy had an impulse. She reached out and took his hand. He squeezed her hand back, gently, before loosening enough that she could pull away.

    She didn’t.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Benevolently beta-ed by Gaia Void Mother. Thanks!


End file.
